


Our Hearts Weep Yet We Still Wear Jade-Tinted Glasses

by DreamlessAshes



Series: Tinted Glasses [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Cara | CaptainPuffy is Clay | Dream's Parent, Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid SMP, Minecraft IRL, My titles are too pretentious for fanfics about Minecraft, Raccoon TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sheep Hybrid Cara | CaptainPuffy, Sheep Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamlessAshes/pseuds/DreamlessAshes
Summary: A series of unconnected MCYT one-shots.Mostly Dream SMP.
Series: Tinted Glasses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185086
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. /Stop (Wilbur)

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike Halcyon Days, where every chapter takes place in the same timeline in a carefully built world, the chapters here are mostly unconnected. Basically, I want to write about Origin SMP and Raccooninnit eventually.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream SMP where Wilbur’s Skyblock Randomizer and 100 Player Challenges also existed.
> 
> Ft. Server Hub Multiverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me write something angsty out of a Wilbur’s skyblock randomized videos.

Wilbur Soot was born upon a void with nothing on his mind but existence. Not even death could free him from the curse of immortality.

Alone, surrounded only by ephemeral life and the whimsical gifts of the gods, Wilbur had no choice but to expand. If it weren’t for the animals that stayed by his side throughout it all, he likely would have simply ceased to function; a body laid staring at the sky despite its beating heart.

But for those fleeting souls, he sought to give them a better life where the death of the void was not an ever-present fear, where comfort was a priority.

For New Milo, he prayed and pleaded to the sky gods.

Wilbur Soot passed the gods’ cruelest test. He was granted a key to other worlds.

Wilbur did not spare a second to request a world of the oceans he’d been born with the knowledge of but never knew. In a beautiful world filled with life and no void in sight, albeit still terrifying because of that squid, Wilbur let New Milo go.

Then he was forcefully pulled away to the World Hub.

Since those days, Wilbur had grown as a person. Those days had since fogged over, and as much as he missed the animals he left there and the home he’d put so much effort into, he would never choose to go back. But in that world, alone and stranded, he was always begging the gods for mercy.

It wasn’t purposeful; he hadn’t realized it himself. It’s just that– well, there was just something about having the freedom to do as he pleased.

Wilbur liked being in control. It wasn’t about winning or losing. The end result really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things as long as he got the last laugh. As long as there were people to listen, he would lead them whichever way he pleased.

However, he never would have admitted it in such a self-aware way. 

Wilbur had quite the habit of gathering people together and ruining everything they worked for. L’Manberg wasn’t anything new to him. 

Maybe the only difference was how much sentiment was put onto L’Manberg. It wasn’t just another experiment filled with pet birds or lab rats for all that it started that way in a drug van. This time, Wilbur was at the forefront of a real nation that everyone wanted to see thrive.

They could do it. They could make something out of it. Wilbur wanted L’Manberg to be his final home, his great symphony.

And then Wilbur died. He blew up his country and ran Phil’s sword between his ribs. 

He’d collapsed many servers before, and L’Manberg was just another.

Maybe the only difference was how much Wilbur cared.

Wilbur knew that the gods had their eye on the Dream SMP. They twisted the players’ respawning to match their cruel game.

And once again, Wilbur was alone in the void, forever at their mercy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually never watched Wilbur’s videos before but I was craving some SBI content and decided to watch the Terraforming the Moon video. And then I kinda binged from there. Might watch more later. 
> 
> Chapter Title comes from how Wilbur always ends his 100 Player videos with /stop


	2. Raccoon Innit (Hybrid AU, Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy Innit is a stubborn child. 
> 
> Hybrid AU where a majority of players are hybrids, but hybrid traits don't manifest until adulthood or if they go through extreme stress situations.

Purpled was the only human on the Dream SMP as far as anyone was aware, but that was just because his family was still alive. Tommy was probably a human too, but no one could really be sure yet. 

Despite all the shit he’d been through, Tommy still retained a fully human appearance. Even though Tommy was at the center of every conflict, even though he was the first to receive a second canon death as the cost for L’Manberg’s independence, Tommy still looked human.

Most people would place their bets on Tommy also being human.

Tubbo cried when his hybrid traits manifested after his second canon death. Tommy comforted him all night. Sheep hybrids were common, he reassured. Tubbo owed Schlatt nothing, especially if he was the bastard that abandoned Tubbo in a box on the side of the road when they were still small. 

_ “As long as I can’t be the next JSchlatt, you can’t be the next Wilbur.” _

That’s what Tommy remembered as Dream dragged him towards his exile.

Tommy was always stubborn. He was headstrong and angry, always fighting for what he believed. No matter what happened, Dream wanted to break him.

(He almost succeeded.)

Tommy has always been stubborn. Even in the worst of situations, he did his best to keep his head up. (Even when terrified, he wouldn’t stop making jokes.)

Sure, he wasn’t happy in Logstedshire, but it wasn’t like the absolute most horrible thing he could be going through. Dream was a bitch that blew up his everything and constantly threatened his last life, and maybe Tommy was lonely, but… Tommy sighed to himself, running a hand over his face. There was no but about it.

Exile was horrible.

Dream visited often, and Tommy didn’t know how to feel about it. Was he glad? Was he angry? Did he want to kill Dream? Did he want to kill— No, he wouldn’t finish that thought.

He wouldn’t let Dream have that. 

Besides, Tommy had Ghostbur. Ghostbur wasn’t really the best company, but he was company. It was kind of weird, to be honest. Ghostbur genuinely cared about Tommy even if he turned a blind eye to Dream’s abuse.

Tommy wanted to see everyone again. He wanted a party.

And then Ghostbur disappeared.

And then no one showed up.

And only Dream was there.

Dream and his fucking smiling mask. 

Tommy had been on the brink this entire time. With every day, he was nudged slightly closer off the edge. It could be worse, he told himself. It could be worse. He could be completely alone. At least his friend was there.

And then Dream found the bunker. And it all blew to bits.

And then Dream wasn’t there anymore. 

Tommy clutched his compass from his tower.

_ “Dream isn’t my friend.” _

Tommy wouldn’t let Dream have the last laugh. Tommy had always been stubborn. (He was just so so tired—)

Tommy wasn’t going in any particular direction. He just wanted to get as far away from Dream as possible.

There was too much snow. He was nowhere near prepared for this biome. Logstedshire never snowed. It wasn’t exactly warm, but a tattered shirt and shorts were enough to get by. Tommy briefly wondered if this tundra would be his gravesite.

He is stubborn. He repeated this to himself. No matter what, he would survive. He had to survive. Even if he died here, he would come back as a ghost.

(He was all alone. He wanted Tubbo. He wanted his family. He wanted to go back home… Dream would kill him. He wanted to go back to Dream. He didn’t want to die here. He wanted to lie down and never get up.)

Tommy was already far too out of it by the time he’d come across the warmly lit cabin. Ice crawled over his ruddy cheeks and snow snuck to his hair like tiny glass shards. Every breath felt like fire rattlibg through his chest.  


With a foggy mind, Tommy gave into autpilot. He stole his fill of potions and golden apples and warm blankets. He meant to just leave with his catch only to be blasted by the start of a blizzard, so he stumbled his way into the basement and dug even further down to drown out the whistling winds.

Techno finally returned to his retirement home with a bloody pickaxe and pounding head. He was not expecting to be greeted by a feral child with raccoon ears and a burning fever.

Techno felt his stomach drop. What happened for the gremlin’s hybrid traits to manifest early?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just set up for future raccoon innit chapters. You can bet I love raccoon innit.


	3. Next Rainfall: Part 1 (Sheep Hybrid Dream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this post](https://www.instagram.com/p/CMXoqrRF3uV/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link).
> 
> Puffy promised to return before the next rainfall. Dream waits.

As a child, Puffy dreamed of sailing the high seas on a chase for great adventures and friendship. Ever since her mother told her about their family’s curse, she wanted to be the one to finally lift it. As an adult with a child on her hands, she still wanted to lift it. Only now, she wanted it for Dream’s sake as much as her own.

When Dream was a child, Puffy was still saving up funds to buy a ship and hire a crew. It was hard to do when the nearest village was a day’s walk away, but she eventually got her first ship and enough savings to pay a decent crew.

Dream had grown up so well. He was still a child undoubtedly, but he knew how to take care of himself. Puffy was a little worried, but it wasn’t like she’d never left him by himself for a couple of days before when she went to work with the village. (She used to take Dream with her until he got a little too rowdy for the villagers.)

Besides, they had some neighbors. BadBoyHalo and his son Sapnap were just on the other side of the nether portal, and Puffy was pretty sure there was a little mushroom nymph who lived nearby too. Dream would be fine in the unlikely event anything happened.

Even so, Puffy was nervous. This was the first time she would be traveling so far away. Dream seemed even more anxious than her. His brilliant emerald eyes were watery as Puffy stood in front of the ship.

“Do you have to leave?” he whispered. “I don’t want you to go.”

Puffy gave him a wiry smile. She didn’t want to leave him either, but this was something she had to do. Everything would work out in the end. t would all work out in the end.

“We’ve already talked about this, duckling,” she reassured with a ruffle of his pale green hair. His nose scrunched up in that way when he was annoyed, playfully batting away Puffy’s hands. “Besides, I’ll be back before next rainfall.”

It didn’t rain much on their island this time of year. By how the clouds shifted and sifted across the blue sky, it wouldn’t rain for at least a week. Puffy planned on sailing a round trip of about that length.

“You’ll barely even notice that I’m gone.” 

“Promise?” Dream asked in a tiny voice. It hurt Puffy’s heart but he had to strengthen her will.

“Promise.” She twined their littlest fingers together.

And like that, she pushed the rowboat from the sandy beach and into the ocean. As she paddled towards the ship and her crew that waited there, she watched Dream’s little wave, They would reunite soon. She promised.

The skies were clear for weeks. Dream would sit on the beach and watch out for ships appearing on the horizon.

Sometimes Sapnap would step through the nearby nether portal and drag him back to play a game. Sometimes George would call out to him from the tree line and they would nap under the leaves. On the days when Dream was missing his mom too much to stray from the coast, they would all build sandcastles together.

The skies were clear for weeks. Then they were cloudy for days. A storm was brewing on the horizon. Dream eagerly awaited his mother’s return.

The clouds darkened the sky till the day was unrecognizable from the night. Thunderbolts rang through Dream’s ears, and the rain soaked his clothes. He clutched tightly onto his rainbow scarf as the wind threatened to steal it into the sky.

The dark oak ship that his mother had spent all of his life saving up for was nowhere to be seen.

AweSamDude appeared silently from behind. He placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder and urged him back to the safety of the indoors. Sam tried to tell Dream that Puffy was probably late. She would be back soon enough.

And so Dream waited for the next rainfall.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next—

And then Dream was an adult.

Dream had left the place of his birth and his childhood alongside George. They hadn’t traveled too far so that Bad, Sapnap, and Sam could visit them often. It was a decent walk through the nether, albeit quite a distance in the overworld.

Then one by one, their family and friends picked up their belongings and moved to the little spruce forest they’d settled down in. The house built over the center of a lake became crowded. And before anyone knew it, a thriving kingdom was born while a rebellion brewed within a drug van.

So much had happened. So much was happening.

But through it all, whenever it rained, Dream would find a nice quiet spot and stare out to the north horizon.

His mother was long gone, but he still wondered if she would be proud of him. Dream fixed the mask that hung from his horns. He had made a deal with the devil. 

She was long gone, so it didn’t matter.

(Puffy was just casually walking down the Prime Path. Dream couldn’t believe his eyes. His mother was just… There. She was alive and well, laughing with the other denizens of the SMP. She stood proud and strong, just like Dream remembered her.

She looked exactly like Dream remembered her. She didn’t even have a single wrinkle to mark the passage of time.

There was something wrong about his mother. She called him her duckling but didn’t seem bothered by him in the slightest either.

What happened to her?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this into two chapters because 1) it got too long and 2) the narration style changed. Anyway, rainbow-haired sheep hybrid Dream is like top-tier, so praise theellipelli for the design.


	4. Next Rainfall: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this post](https://www.instagram.com/p/CMXoqrRF3uV/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link).
> 
> Something was wrong.

September 19.

Captain Puffy promised to return to her duckling before the next rainfall. 

September 31. 

Captain Puffy was running a little late. There was a clue that she wanted to chase down, but she underestimated how long that trail truly was. Without ever finishing that journey, she finally began the journey home. Hopefully, Dream wouldn’t be too terribly upset with her.

October 14.

There was a storm brewing to the south. The crew warned their captain to find a shore rather than brave the wild waves. 

October 21.

They didn’t have enough supplies to last the journey back since the voyage was taking twice the time they’d planned. They had to make another stop and trade for resources. Unfortunately, there were no nearby villages — the closest one had apparently been abandoned after a pillager raid. They would have to collect resources themselves.

Puffy was running so late. Her duckling must be so scared.

October 29.

The pillager base was still nearby. They hadn’t seen any signs in the abandoned village, so they thought the pillagers had moved on elsewhere. It was reckless of them to stay.

They scattered, but with how much blood was on the ground, Puffy was sure that most of them hadn’t made it. She tried to find any survivors from her crew to no avail. (They hadn’t respawned back on the ship either.)

November 3.

She was finally back en route. After a whole month of setbacks and the brutal attack on her crew, she was finally going back home. Her heart weighed like lead as she manned the ship on her own. 

She knew that there was always a possibility for failure. She knew full well that something could go wrong, but this was far beyond her expectation. Even worse, she could feel her family’s curse curling in on her, creeping like ice fractals from her periphery. 

Something was terribly wrong, and she knew it. She just couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. She needed to write everything down. She couldn’t let herself forget who she is. Grabbing a spare book and quill, she began her first Captain’s Log.

She had to get back soon. Her mother must be so worried about her.

November 15.

The slight drizzle from earlier suddenly turned a hard downpour of water and lightning. Puffy was too far from the visible coastline to drop the anchor. Getting the ship stable by herself was proving to be a feat for the ages. In the slippery puddles at her feet, she’d nearly hit her head or been tossed overboard more times than she would like.

After great trial and error, she finally approached the shore. From her ship, it looked both familiar yet unrecognizable to her. 

When the rain finally settled, she swam towards the sand. With a little cautious exploration, this land was clearly occupied. Under a jutted out rock, Puffy set up a campfire to dry herself. She pulled out a book and quill from her inventory and began her captain’s log.

There weren’t any settlements near her home, so she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. She’d have to go back to the ship and backtrack.

It had been nearly two whole months since she’d set sail… Probably. Hopefully.

She was forgetting something.

November 16.

Eret recognized Captain Puffy. They remembered that she was an adventurer, a captain of a humble ship with a sheep banner on its sail. She was on some sort of quest to break a curse, but she didn’t divulge any further information. At the very least, Eret didn’t remember if she did. 

Eret didn’t think they would meet Captain Puffy again. Although L’Manberg and Dream’s land, in general, had been growing quite well and drawing in new residents in the past, the recent state of Manberg and the war before it was far from welcoming. 

Nevertheless, they were excited to tour her around the SMP. It was a mess, but it was home.

Puffy sat against the wheel of the familiar dark oak ship. The red coat she decided to wear on a whim fit weirdly around her shoulders and wrinkled around her crossed legs.

The ship was a story Puffy was scared to know. She knew that something had gone wrong. Ever since she’d woken up at spawn and wandered through the trees until Eret found her, Puffy knew that she would regret remembering whatever she’d forgotten.

She already built herself a new life. She had new friends (Bad seemed to know her), a promise ring (Niki disappeared), an adopted son (Foolish was probably older than her), and a job (a therapist in a land of hard-headed veterans). Remembering her past would ruin everything.

(And deep down, she knew her duckling was the key to it all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit; I forgot Foolish was adopted by Puffy. I need to remember him.


	5. Jukebox Ghost (Canon Divergent, Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ghost is formed immediately upon Tommy's death at Dream's hands.

There was a kind of stillness to the air. It was the kind of stillness that lulled the restless to sleep and lied to the lonely. It was a false sense of security. It was the final drizzle after a hurricane. 

It was peeking your head out your door after a natural disaster with bated breath and realizing you were still alive. 

It was the relief before realizing that not everyone survived.

Tommy Innit had never been quiet. Even without speaking, his very presence was loud. If it wasn’t his voice or the heavy footsteps as he dominated a room, it was his broad gestures and highly saturated clothing and blond hair. As long as Tommy was alive, the universe seemed to always match his energy.

It wasn’t the first time someone claimed Tommy was dead without a body to show for it. It would be harder to believe it a second time, right?

Honestly, they hadn’t really believed it the first time. Tommy dying? Jumping from a tower while in exile? It just didn’t sound right. 

But Schlatt and Wilbur had just died permanently. There was an ever-present fear of death hanging over New L’Manberg, especially for those hanging onto their last lives. Tommy dying back then didn’t sound right, but it wasn’t unlikely either.

Now, Tommy dying just sounded like a poor joke. This was the kid who fought two wars, who only lost his second life of his own volition, who faked his death once before, who stood up against Dream and  _ won— _ This was also the kid who just bled tiredness, and everyone knew it.

There was a stillness in the air for a whole week.

When the rumor that Tommy died in the prison by Dream’s hands reached anyone’s ears, it wasn’t disbelief that hit them first. It was a steady “ _ so that’s it then. _ ”

The red-clad ghost that flitted between walls and disappeared behind corners only solidified what everyone knew.

The ghostly Tommy Innit didn’t talk to anyone. He followed the denizens of the SMP wordless, only to vanish when they tried to confront him. As of yet, no one had gotten a good look at him. They only knew it was him by the flashes of startling red and the haunting music notes that faded in and out of hearing range.

Or at least, that’s what the past citizens of L’Manberg thought.

A ghost hung around the prison Tommy died in, staring blankly at Dream. 

Dream stared back. He didn’t wear his mask in front of the apparition.

The ghost was young, taking on the appearance from when Tommy had first joined the SMP. It was like looking at a faded picture.

He even had wings still. It had been ages since Tommy lost his wings. (Dream could never forget the feeling of his blade slicing through scorched feathers—)

It wasn’t a perfect reflection of the past. That was never what Tommy would have wanted his ghost to be for all that he latched onto nostalgia. No, the ghost took the form of all the wishes that were left unfulfilled, a bastardized happy ending.

Wings long burned away. Snow in his hair. A compass dangling on a thread. A subtle hum of the anthem from a deceased nation.

The ghost was incapable of speech, the only sounds being the corrupted hum of music notes. On occasion, he would hum Road Trip mockingly. If Dream hadn’t strangled him before, he definitely wanted to do it again. He pushed his hair out of his face and attempted to revive the real Tommy for the nth time. 

(The ghost did its best to stop the madman. It wasn't time yet.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm... I actually like this one. I might expand on this idea more at a later date.
> 
> This story takes place in the same interpreted universe as Halcyon Days. The key point is that ghosts are a combination of strong lingering sentiments, memories, and a dash of magic condensing into an entity. Basically, the ghosts are just echoes of what the deceased person wanted to represent rather than the actual people. 
> 
> Since I'm trying to keep Halcyon Days canon-compliant, I can't really expand on this idea much due to the inclusion of the dead zone.


	6. Dreamland (Hybrid SMP, Wilbur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur wanders the void of death until he stumbles into another world. 
> 
> Ft. Hybrid SMP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calling it Hybrid SMP instead of Origin SMP because there's already a community using that.

Wilbur had been dead for a long time. There was no escape from the void.

All he could do was keep walking. He walked for what felt like years, maybe even decades. He walked and walked and walked. In this endless limbo, he kept walking.

And then he saw something. It was a slight glow, the slightest blue. It took the form of a monster that had been banished from Dream’s lands ages ago.

Wilbur panicked. He didn’t think those motherfuckers existed in the afterlife! He hadn’t slept in forever! He turned on his heel to run when the phantom dove after him.

Instead of the biting pain that Wilbur remembered from being alive, he just felt like he’d been hit by a firm pillow. His breath was knocked out of him, and he hit the ground.

Wilbur pushed himself up from the ground. At least, he tried to. His hand went straight through the ground, then the rest of his body followed down with it. For a solid minute, he was stuck under the ground like a ghost. 

No– he was a ghost. He was dead, and even though he was inside a block, it was a dirt block. Those didn’t exist in the void. Somehow, he ended up in the overworld again. It wasn’t the same as when he’d poked through the opening left by Tommy beating death.

This felt real. He was grounded to the overworld.

With a bit of effort, he pulled himself out of the ground. In disbelief, he stared up at a dark sky as rain hit his skin and seeped into his clothes. He was  _ feeling _ . He could  _ feel _ .

He wasn’t just a ghost-like Ghostbur. He had a body that could turn transparent at will. What happened?

“Wilbur!” a familiar child’s voice shouted in the distance. “Where are you?!”

Wilbur shot up from where he’d been sitting. He looked around in the low light of the full moon as the rain let up. “Tommy?” he called back.

“I’m almost there!” Tommy yelled again. 

Wilbur glanced over his shoulder towards the lake. He wasn’t familiar with it. He took in the terrain around himself, unrecognizable and untouched. This was definitely not L’Manberg. This wasn’t even anywhere near the Dream SMP. Where was he?

Then Wilbur heard the frantic beating of feathers, a sound he hadn’t heard in years. It sounded like a chicken but bigger. It sounded like when Tommy was a child with downy wings that couldn’t lift him off the ground—

And then Tommy came into sight. From across the stream, the child hopped from treetop to treetop until he launched himself over the stream and towards Wilbur.

“Wilbur?” Tommy stumbled his landing. 

Wilbur stared in shock. Tommy had red and white feathers along his arms and in his hair. The Tommy that Wilbur knew was an avian rather than a parrot(?) hybrid. This Tommy was also younger, a child still rather than an adolescent who grew up too soon. 

“Tommy—” Wilbur cut himself off with a scream as the sun finally rose above the horizon and set him on fire. He quickly dashed into the river. What the fuck!? What the fuck is going on? He crawled out of the water for a quick second only to catch fire immediately. Was he an undead mob?

Well, yes, he supposed he was. He was a ghost of some kind, but not the same kind of ghost as Ghostbur or Glatt. Wilbur brushed his fingers against his neck to feel gills softly shifting as he breathed. He took a look at his hands. They were webbed with translucent blue skin and clawed with black nails. 

Wilbur whispered breathily. “I’m a phantom hybrid?”

Tommy ran over to him and immediately insulted his translucency. Whatever was going on, at least Tommy never changed.

Wilbur let himself be dragged along. It felt real, but he couldn’t be certain if it was. For all he knew, he could have just wandered into a dream. But it was fun. It was fun! He was surrounded by his family and friends without any obligations.

One of the weirder things wasn’t that they were all hybrids but that they were hybrids with very defining traits. Wilbur, in his past life, was a hybrid between a fridge and an avian (although avian in his original life meant something different than this world), but he looked completely human. 

He was often caught just staring at them, but he couldn’t answer them when they questioned it. It wasn’t like he could answer with how odd it was to look at Niki and see axolotl-like features or Jack’s smoky limbs. The thing he noticed the most, however, was how bright they looked.

Wilbur knew that the wars had taken a toll on them. They were battle-hardened and wary after the Revolutionary War, but they had still been bright-eyed and hopeful on their home turf. Then Schlatt ruined everything. The blazing hope they had left turned into a little flicker of a wisp as they were all jammed into that musty ravine.

By the end of it all, they put up iron walls around their hearts and laced thorns around their tongues. From what little peeks of the living world Wilbur had caught through Ghostbur, the upbeat optimism had become a mask. Even stubborn Tommy had been broken eventually, a traumatized echo of his firecracker personality after being killed and dragged back to the living world. 

Here was a chicken boy, laughing loudly without a care in the world. Here was Jack, free from his all-consuming revenge. Here was Philza, without his son’s blood staining his hands. Here was Ranboo, discovering who he is peacefully.

After years in isolation, Wilbur thought that it was truly for the best that he stayed alone. He could have chosen to move on from limbo, but he knew he didn’t deserve it. He still didn't deserve it. He hadn’t meant to wander into this hybrid dreamland surrounded by mirrors of the people he loved.

He didn’t know how he got there though. He didn’t know how to get out…

He wouldn't ruin this world. It didn't deserve that yet. 


	7. Dreamland Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This world was like a dream. Wilbur wasn’t the only dreamer.

Wilbur played along. 

He didn’t know anything about this world or the life they led, but he played along. Luckily, no one else really talked about their life from _before_. Wilbur would try to pick up the breadcrumbs they would drop in conversation, but it was as though everyone had a non-existent past.

It only reaffirmed his belief that this world wasn’t real. Whatever it was, it was no different from a lovely dream.

Wilbur stared at the palms of his translucent hands. It was like a dream. It was like he was sleeping. Or maybe it was retribution for refusing to sleep, for refusing to move on. People can only stay awake for so long before the phantoms appear… Was it a coincidence?

When Philza was nervous, he would take one of Wilbur’s hands and trace his fingers over the lines of his palm. Wilbur didn’t get it, but he let his dad seek comfort in whatever it was he was doing. Phil once said that it was because Wilbur’s hands were warm even when he was invisible.

Tubbo was always beckoning people to live near him. He refused to live alone, grabbing everyone by their ankles to live near his tree house. He was especially clingy with Tommy, only leaving the call once Tommy was next to someone else. Tubbo always had his wrist to his mouth as though afraid that if he left Tommy alone, Tommy would disappear.

Jack was wary of lava despite being born in it. He would let out the starting muffles of a scream before realizing that he was perfectly fine. He tried to keep Tommy in his sight. 

Niki was passive-aggressive towards everyone. She fluctuated between happy to see them to pushing them out of her lake. She was only lenient with Wilbur while glaring daggers at Schlatt from behind her glass box.

Wilbur knew something was going on. He never thought otherwise, but he didn’t know what exactly was going on.

Wilbur was following Tubbo around in the night to help him stock up on bones and gunpowder. When the mobs aligned just right, Tubbo had an idea that many of them often had. Discs were fun to try and collect after all. 

The creeper disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Tubbo lurched forward to take down the skeleton. He ran back to the creeper’s drop and excitedly picked up the disc.

And like always, he lifted his communicator up to his mouth to share his news. Tubbo shouted, “Tommy! I got a disc!”

“Wrong SMP!” a muffled voice replied before devolving into panicked static as Tommy escaped enemy mobs from wherever he was. 

That was when Wilbur realized that this was less of a dream than he thought. They were all aware of their situation. The question now was ‘ _ why’ _ ?

  
  


Tubbo lost his second life in place of Tommy. In that box with a firework aimed at him, he lost his last life. He woke up in a void with his arms over his face from a last-ditch attempt to protect himself. He blinked again and found himself protected by a natural shulker shell.

Philza spread his wings out to protect his son from his own explosion. The madness that graced Wil’s face turned to regret as the ceiling collapsed onto them. Before he knew it, he was face to face with a starry-eyed Tommy. He felt dread at the pit of his stomach when he flew over his transparent son, but it turned out to be fine. Wilbur was different but alive.

Jack just wanted to check up on Tommy. The kid had been exiled, and as far as he was aware, no one else from L’Manberg had visited him. There was something terrifying in Tommy’s grey eyes as he dug out the netherrack and dropped Jack into the lava below. Jack didn’t have the chance to crawl out of hell when he woke up in the nether alone.

Tommy stood at the top of a pillar. Logstedshire was like a dot amidst the clouds below him. The wind blew much stronger up here. It whipped through his hair and the holes of clothes. He lost his wings before they grew large enough to carry him, so Tommy Innit hit the ground too hard. He never would again.

Niki was thrown off balance by one of the many explosions from the obsidian grin. She was trapped under the rubble with only the burst pipes streaming water around her. She gasped for air only to find she could breathe underwater.

Ranboo could afford to be reckless. Even after he lost all three lives, he didn’t regret it at all. He just wished he could have had a little more time with the people he cared about. 

(His wish was granted. So were all of theirs.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. I like making sad things out of funny things apparently.
> 
> Anyway, if I were to write a real Hybrid SMP chapter, I would wait until Technoblade joins because I thrive on that 4/4 SBI content. 
> 
> It is 11PM. I have work at 8AM tomorrow. I want to sleep. I had an exam this morning.

**Author's Note:**

> IG: @sing.me.under  
> I post fanart sometimes.


End file.
